Harry Potter The Lord of the Snitch
by dark of the moon
Summary: Yes, yes, Harry PotterLord of the Rings has been done before, but not like this. cue dramatic music Harry Potter is the Lord of the Snitch… dramatic music falters well… he would be… if Voldemort wasn’t doing everything in his powers to gets The On


Disclaimer; I own nothing from Harry Potter, or Lord of the Rings  
  
A/N; Please read and review!! It's my first fic, and if you don't, how will I know whether or not to continue writing it. :)  
  
Harry Potter; The Lord of the Snitch  
  
Prologue - Voice Overs  
  
Molly Weasley (V.O.) - The world is changed. I feel it in the water. I feel it in the earth. I smell it in the air. Much that once was is lost, for none now live who remember it.  
  
It began with the forging of the 'Great Quidditch Supplies'. Three bludgers were given to the Slytherins, immortal, wisest and best looking (or so they like to believe) of all beings. Seven quaffles were given to the Ravenclaws, great minds and agilest of the Hogwarts halls. And nine, nine Beater Bats were gifted to the race of Hufflepuffs, who above all else desire not to get hit. Within these Quidditch Supplies, was bound the power and the will to win each match. But they were all of them, deceived, for deep in the land of Chudley, the Dark Lord Voldemort forged a snitch, a master snitch, and into this snitch he poured all his cruelty, his malice and his will to dominate and win every Quidditch match. One snitch to rule them all. One by one, the free peoples of the wizarding world fell to the power of the snitch, but there were some who resisted. A last alliance of Hufflepuffs and Slytherins played against the armies of Chudley, and on the very slopes of Mount Cannon, they fought for the freedom of the wizarding world. Victory was near, but the power of the snitch could not be undone.  
  
It was in this moment, when all hope had faded, that Nicholas Flammel, son of Brickolas Flammel, daughter of Tickolas, aunt of Geckolas, second cousin of Denkolask, distant grandfather of Finckleless Flammel took up his father's Nimbus -5 broom.  
  
And Voldemort, enemy of the free peoples of the wizarding world, was defeated. The snitch passed to Nicholas, who had this one chance to destroy evil forever, but the hearts of men are easily corrupted. And the snitch of power has a will of its own. It betrayed Flammel, to his death.  
  
And some things that should not have been forgotten were lost. History became legend. Legend became myth. For two and a half thousand years, the snitch passed out of all knowledge. Until, when chance came, the snitch ensnared another bearer.  
  
Peeves - A snitch!!! A snitch!!! My Precious, my own snitch.  
  
Molly Weasley (V.O.) - The snitch came to the poltergeist Peeves, who took it deep into the tunnels under the Whomping Willow, and there it consumed him.  
  
Peeves - It came to me, my own, my love, my Precious.  
  
Molly Weasley (V.O.) - The snitch gave to Peeves unnatural skill and agility. For five hundred years it poisoned his mind, turning him against all students and wizards whom could actually catch a snitch, and in the gloom of Peeves' tunnel it waited. Darkness crept back into the forests of the world. Rumor grew of a shadow in the East, whispers of a nameless fear, and the snitch of Power perceived that its time had come. It abandoned Peeves, but then something happened that the snitch did not intend. It was picked up by the most unlikely creature imaginable. A muggle; Petunia Dursley, of Little Whinging.  
  
Petunia Dursley - What's this? A golden walnut, how charming! I shall take this home to Little Whinging and give it to my just wed-husband.  
  
Peeves - Lost! My Precious snitch is lost!  
  
Molly Weasley (V.O.) - For the time will soon come when Muggle-borns will shape the fortunes of all.  
  
-----~~*~~-----  
  
Three for the Slytherins - often becoming spies  
  
Seven for the Ravenclaws - those whom love to groom  
  
Nine for the Hufflepuffs doomed to cry  
  
One for the Dark lord on his dark broom  
  
In the land of Chudley - a.k.a the orange side  
  
One snitch to rule them all, one snitch to end it  
  
One snitch to bring them all and on the sidelines bind them  
  
In the name of Quidditch - a.k.a the orange side.  
  
-----~~*~~-----  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Harry Potter, aged seventeen years, eleven months and five days old, was once again trapped in the Dursleys' kitchen, slaving over the highly complicated menu that had been chosen for that night's party. Vernon Dursley, head honcho of Grunnings (who, coincidentally, was given a poncho for being head honcho), was holding a party in honour of himself and, as usual, he had left Harry to attempt to cook the near impossible.  
  
"How am I supposed to be able to make poisson avec pommes de frites?! I don't even know what a poisson is!" Harry huffed angrily - this was so typical of his uncle.  
  
Ever since Harry had finished Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he had been evicted to the old bomb shelter at the bottom of the garden. The bomb shelter was oddly shaped; like an igloo it was, only covered in moss. It was frequently damp, often causing Harry to fall ill, however it did mean that he could now invite Ron over whenever he wanted.sadly that wasn't all that often.Ron kept trying to garden for Harry -  
  
"I just want to make it nice for you." He'd say, "I don't like those marigolds over there; perhaps I should plant them in a hanging basket and put it up on the front of the shelter, by the door."  
  
But Harry didn't want a nice garden, and he didn't understand why Ron would want his garden to be nice.  
  
Harry was brought out of his thoughts by a knock at the front door. Hearing that Vernon wasn't getting up to answer it, Harry banged down the recipe books he had been scanning and opened the door. He was greeted by the sight of an old wizard by the name of Dumbledore.  
  
"You're late" Harry pointed out helpfully. The senile old man should have been there almost three hours ago!  
  
"A wizard is never late Harry Potter," Dumbledore returned sharply, "He always arrives precisely when he means to. or at the moment when my watch tells me too. Rather unfortunately my watch is running a little slow."  
  
'Damn Muggle piece of rubbish!' Dumbledore thought to himself before striding past Harry and into the living room. Shutting the door behind himself so as not to be overheard by Harry Potter - The Boy Who Hears Everything And Then Goes And Bloody Well Repeats It To Everyone He Meets! Dumbledore sat on the squashy pink sofa, opposite a happy looking Vernon Dursley.  
  
"What's wrong Vernon? You look happy!" the wizard enquired worriedly.  
  
"I've lost weight."  
  
Dumbledore raised a somewhat skeptical eyebrow - the muggle sat before him looked as fat and round as he ever had.  
  
"I don't understand it either," Dursley replied, understanding the look on Dumbledore's old and weather beaten face. "I look the same, yet the scales say that I've lost nearly three stone."  
  
Dumbledore snorted, but promptly became aware of his watch bleeping and so focused his attention on that rather than the ridiculous notion of Vernon Dusley losing weight.  
  
'Darkness Level three' it read. The wizened wizard had charmed his watch to keep.well.watch.on the 'darkness' of wizarding England. According to his watch, the dark days were returning, slowly but surely. Sadly there was nothing he could do until Fudge said he could, and that wouldn't happen until the Dark Lord himself came and slapped Fudge across the face with a fish and then started screaming 'I'm back, I'm back! Look at me! I'm back.'  
  
"I feel stretched Dumbley, like I'm thin.yet I also feel.agile! As if I could quite easily take up a new sport, such as one from the wizarding world at which I had no previous skills, yet beat the crap out of every other highly experienced wizard out there! Even if they had their wands!!"  
  
"GASP"  
  
Dumbledore couldn't believe he had just heard those words from the previously xenophobic moron by the name of Dursley. He scanned Vernon's face for any sign that he might be kidding, but as his eyes roamed over the fellow opposite him, Dumbledore's mind stopped. His eyes glazed over as they came to rest on Vernons tongue as it seductively poked out of his mouth, desperately trying to reach the cornflakes still in Vernon's moustache from breakfast two weeks ago.  
  
Dumbledore suddenly became aware that the other man was clutching something in his podgy hand which was rammed tightly into the pocket of his trousers. "What are you holding Vernon?!"  
  
Vernon Dursley looked down at his trousers, a little shocked, but suddenly angry. "You can't have it!!" he screamed, "It's mine! It was given to me, she found it! But it's mine! All mine!"  
  
Dumbledore looked nothing more than troubled by the purple-faced man in front of him. He knew of course; Dumbledore was an intelligent man, and it was obvious to him that Dursley had once again been subconsciously playing with his snitch.  
  
"You're fiddling with your snitch again aren't you Vernon? You can't leave it alone can you?" Dumbledore spoke as if to a three year old. If Vernon was red before, he was positively scarlet now.  
  
"How dare you! I would never! -You know that! I would never," Vernon seemed to blush now, rather than seethe with anger - of course it was hard to tell considering his colour prior to the embarrassment at having been caught fiddling with his snitch *cough cough*  
  
".never in front of company! I mean.not that I ever did. y'know. play. with it - it makes you go blind you know, if you do that.thing!"  
  
Dumbledore finally realised what Dursley was babbling about, "No, no, you misunderstand me, my friend; I meant that golden walnut that you've got grasped in your hand - it's called a snitch - it's a ball that is used in a wizarding sport."  
  
Vernon, who had been changing slowly back to his normal, artery-clogged, pink colour, suddenly blushed again, realising that the old wizard had not been insinuating anything after all.  
  
"Do not feel embarrassed Vernon, it was utterly my fault." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as they were prone to do when untangling crossed wires. "Coincidently, I do believe that.uh. Playing 'how do you do' with Little Vernon, does not make you blind. A witch caught her wizard son in the middle of such an act one day and hexed him to try to discourage such behaviour. I do believe that is where your old wives got their tales from."  
  
"Oh." Vernon searched for something else to say, trying desperately to think of something that would alleviate the awkwardness of the situation, but only becoming more and more flustered under the appreciative gaze of Albus Dumbledore.  
  
'Argh! Dumbledore fancies me! Help! He's a wizard - I'd be helpless against him. think of something to say, change to topic of conversation. quick. before he starts worshipping you!!'  
  
"Ar-are you staying for the dinner party tonight Albus?" Vernon's voice sounded unnaturally shrill.  
  
"Of course I am. When are the first guests arriving?" Dumbledore enquired lightly, whilst simultaneously thinking how cute Vernon's voice was when he wasn't pretending to be deep and manly and rough.  
  
"Soon; half an hour I think. I'd better go upstairs and get changed into something smart." Vernon stammered, eyes looking everywhere but at the old wizard.  
  
"That's a splendid idea. I'll come upstairs too; I need to freshen up after the long journey here."  
  
Albus followed Dursley to the door. 'That's funny,' he thought, 'I could have sworn I just heard Vernon whimper.'  
  
-----~~*~~-----  
  
Harry had shut the door after Dumbledore's abrupt entrance and immediately gone back to the kitchen where he was now slaving over a big pan of oil.  
  
Harry Potter was an orphan. His parents had died and Vernon Dursley, his uncle, had taken him in as a favour to his wife on her death bed. Petunia had been the one to pass the golden walnut on to Vernon, knowing how much he would appreciate it. He had. Vernon had grown mightily attached to the little thing, and mostly kept it a secret, not wanting anyone to grow jealous and try to steal it, because he would then have to kill them. In a painful manner. Until they regretted their foolish actions when he would then stamp on them a little more before finishing the job.  
  
Petunia and Vernon had had a son together. He was the same age as Harry.or he would be.  
  
Dudley Dursley who was partial to a bit of bacon, like his father, had been eyeing up a pig one day, dreaming about how tasty it would be to eat him. When, unfortunately for him, the pig recognised Dursley as being the boy who ate everything. Alas, poor Dudley's fat legs didn't move fast enough - the pig had decided that the only way to prevent Dudley from eating him was to eat the kid first. And he did.  
  
Of course, that was the final nail in the coffin for Vernon Dursley. He kicked Harry out of the house, not wanting to be reminded that he was the only person he had left, yet he kept him close enough at hand to use him when Dursley didn't want to do something himself - the lazy git - like the party this evening.  
  
Harry had finished deep frying everything, having finally realised what poisson avec pommes de frites was, and was just serving up when Vernon's head popped around the corner of the kitchen door.  
  
"Hurry up boy!" Vernon hissed.  
  
"Alright, alright, I'm just putting the finishing touches to the dishes." Harry stopped what he was doing, understanding his uncle's expression clearly, it was the one that said quite plainly; I will kill you.  
  
Carting the plates through to the living/dining area, Harry served the food and then took his place between Professor McGonagall, his old transfiguration teacher and guest of Dumbledore's, and Mrs Lydia Parkington; an annoying muggle whom would only be addressed by her full title. Uncle Vernon sat at the head of the table, the other side of Mrs Lydia Parkington, and much to his discomfort Professor Dumbledore was on his other side. Opposite Harry was Mrs. Figg, the mad squib from across the road with all the cats, and finally next to her was Mr Gregory Parkington Esq., equally infuriating husband of annoying Mrs Lydia Parkington, for the same reason.  
  
Once Harry was seated everyone raised a glass to Vernon and then began to eat, stopping only when conversation made them.  
  
"You have a lovely home, Vernon," Dumbledore said softly.  
  
"Yes," Vernon replied, "*Petunia*, my dead *wife*, decorated it." He said, in a voice much louder than Dumbledore's.  
  
"Oh and what a beautiful watch you have!" he exclaimed, grabbing Vernon's wrist and stroking the watch face.  
  
Vernon wrenched his arm free and then replied, again in a somewhat loud and fake voice, "Why thank you, my old friend, *Petunia* gave it to me as a *wedding* present."  
  
The group lapsed once more into silence. Mrs Lydia Parkington wasn't looking so superior now, having had several glasses of wine, courtesy of uncle Vernon, she was slumped unceremoniously on the table, giggling inanely. Mrs Figg, having received no attention from Dumbledore, had swivelled in her seat so as to face Mr Gregory Parkington Esq. and was talking incessantly about her cat called Bullfrog. Mr Gregory Parkington Esq. was pointedly ignoring the nutty cat-obsessed woman and was instead, talking to Professor McGonagall who was pretending her name was Megan and that she was in fact from France, and that no, she didn't mind that he was married.  
  
"So sorry Vernon, was that your knee that my hand just accidentally brushed?" Dumbledore asked uncle Vernon.  
  
Vernon choked on his chip, once again making his face go red and causing the vein on his temple to stand out. Harry paused, chip half-way to his mouth.  
  
"Oh my! He's choking!!" shrieked Professor McGonagall, dropping her fake French accent and jumping to her feet.  
  
Dumbledore also jumped to his feet but pulled Dursley with him. Dumbledore fought valliently against the larger man, trying to place his arms around Dursley's middle. When his hands finally met, Dumbledore started to perform the Heimlich maneuver.  
  
'Oh my word, he's trying to hug me!! Get off me you creepy old wizard! If I wasn't choking on a chip right now then I would beat the living daylights out of you - taking advantage of a man when he's oxygen deprived - it's just not the British way!!'  
  
Suddenly a chip shot out of Vernon's mouth, flying quite spectacularly across the table and then landing in Mr Gregory Parkington Esq.'s wine glass. Everyone looked at the wine glass and then back at Dursley who was still fighting his way out of Dumbledore's clutches.  
  
"That's it! I've had enough!" Vernon yelled, finally managing to disentangle himself from the old wizard, "Harry, it's yours! It's all yours! The house! The money! I don't want it anymore! I don't want any of it! Here, you can even have the goddamn snitch!" Vernon plunged his hands into his trouser pockets and then walked out of the room.  
  
Dumbledore blocked his exit, "The snitch, Vernie, is still in your pocket." He said calmly, almost purring (Dursley thought), before plunging his hand into the mans trousers and retrieving the snitch himself. Before he knew what had happened, Dursley sucker-punched him on the nose, causing him to drop the snitch which Harry reached over the now un-conscious Mrs Lydia Parkington to catch. Vernon ran from the house screaming.  
  
The guests filed out onto the road and everyone watched as Vernon Dursley sprinted down the street waving his arms and yelling obscenities for all and sundry to hear.  
  
"Well, I've had a lovely evening. See you soon." Dumbledore said to Harry, "And take care of you know what, *nudge nudge wink wink*." He patted Harry's hand which coincidentally was in his pocket, winked once more, and then left.  
  
'He really is a very creepy old wizard' Harry thought to himself.  
  
-----~~*~~----- 


End file.
